Author's Note: I'M BACK, BABY! After a very long absence due to a very persistent health issue, I'm slowly returning to fanfic writing with this, the first chapter of a frivolous new fic. For those of you who have waited patiently for updates on my other fics, I WILL be finishing them all over the coming weeks and months. My thanks to any and all of your who have favourited, followed or read one of my stories, and extra special thanks to those who have left messages or reviews of support. This fic is dedicated to Firebird9 for her inexhaustive cheer and enthusiasm for life.

Overhead, a bee droned tirelessly against the ceiling, entirely immune to the charms of modern Australian literature.

"And the old man gave his orders…boys, go at them from the jump. No use to try for fancy riding now."

"Dodgson, take over." The English Master, pacing slowly between the rows of desks, indicated a sandy haired boy.

"And…uh..and Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them from the right…"

The Master's correction came, firm but kind. "To the right, Dodgson."

"Sorry, sir. To the right. Ride boldly, lad, and never fear the spills…"

His gaze fixed out the window at the sunburnt grass of the lawn, the man distractedly named the next boy: "Laurie, your turn."

"For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight, if once they gain the sheel…shelter of those hills."

"That'll do for today, I think. Tomorrow you're going to read ahead to the 10th stanza and make a note on your slate of any words with which you are unfamiliar. Right, dismissed."

As the forty or so ten year old boys rushed out of the room and headed noisily towards the dining hall for lunch, Jack Robinson dusted down the blackboard, stacked the poetry volumes on his desk, and rued the day he agreed to this job.

When he knocked on the door of the school infirmary later that evening, Jack was pleased to be beckoned in by a sunny voice. Skirting a small and rather phlegmy boy who snuffled his way from the iodine-scented sanctuary, Jack made his way past the rattan chaise lounge sick beds to the little office near the far window.

"Hallo there, Jack!"

Despite himself, a smile teased its way across Jack's face and the tension of the day faded from his shoulders as the school Matron stood and greeted him with a saucy grin. It was easy to become downtrodden by the lack of progress in this case, but one cheeky smile from Miss Fisher and he was suddenly filled with energy and zeal again.

"Any luck?" He asked, settling into a chair with a sigh and a murmured thanks as the ever-sharp Miss Fisher passed him a fresh cup of Irish Breakfast.

"Not yet…not that I've had much time to snoop today, what with what seems like half the lower school having managed to fall out of trees or slide face-down along gravel paths." Phryne hopped up onto the desk and swung her feet even as she frowned at her lack of progress. "Tell me you have a clue…something…anything…to help us solve this case. I don't think I can stand another week of schoolboy afflictions and affectations."

"Nothing concrete, I'm afraid. Perhaps I'm completely wrong about this. I was sure that the diamonds were being smuggled into the country through John Horrocks' nephew, but if young George Horrocks is a budding criminal mastermind, he is a better actor than his readings of Hamlet would suggest. The boy is utterly, numbingly average. A second-class cricketer, at the back of Third Violin in the school orchestra, a passable-but-only-just student in all of his studies except for maths, where his teacher tells me he is failing miserably." Jack shook his head and threw back the last mouthful of tea. "This entire week may have been a waste of time."

"Perhaps. But your logic was impeccable and there's definitely something going on at this school. Tomorrow is Saturday – we can ring Hugh and see if he's found any other leads. If not, I'm willing to stick it out as nurse for a few more days."

"Agreed." Somewhat more reluctantly than he would have admitted, Jack stood and placed his empty cup on the desk beside Phryne's leg. Taking care not to look too closely at the stocking tops revealed by the hitch of her white uniform skirt, he bid her goodnight and retired to his narrow bed in the dormitory attic.

Just maybe, tomorrow would bring better news.